


A Morty Spell

by AndersAndrew, futagogo



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: C137 Rick, C137 Rick is not the worst, Character Study, Citadels of Ricks, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Morality, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Incest, Lot of Ricks, M/M, Mortyfuckers, No C137cest, No Plot/Plotless, No Porn, Objectification, PWP without Porn, Possessive Rick, Power Imbalance, Unhealthy Relationships, Victim Blaming, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 07:03:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7834879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndersAndrew/pseuds/AndersAndrew, https://archiveofourown.org/users/futagogo/pseuds/futagogo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>According to some Ricks, there was nothing better than fucking a Morty. Although these Ricks were by far the minority, they were undeniably addicts. Rumor had it that once you enjoyed a Morty, there was no going back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Morty Spell

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Le charme d'un Morty](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7122901) by [AndersAndrew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndersAndrew/pseuds/AndersAndrew). 
  * Inspired by [The Citadel of Lost Children](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6286300) by [futagogo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/futagogo/pseuds/futagogo). 



> Warning: crude language, mention of sexual abuse of minors (of Mortys) and a little bit of victim blaming by Rick C-137 (he is an asshole, but I even mentioned in the tags he is “not the worst”)
> 
> Oh, and...english is not my first language, thus...don't be rude. I try my best and I take advice to improve the translation.  
>    
> (The universe depicted here is reaaaaally similar to the one of The Citadel of Lost Children by futagogo, thus I wanna credit them here :D)
> 
>  
> 
>  **Edit** : futagogo helped me (ok, not just "helped") to translate this fanfic, thus I added them like co-author. Thanks to them, this version is lot of better and I hope the future readers will like that :)  
> 

According to some Ricks, there was nothing better than fucking a Morty. It was as though their asses had been designed to sheathe a Rick’s cock—so perfectly tight yet pliable, able to take the entire length. And the way even the most experienced of them still whimpered like virgins, desperate to smother their moans, made for a delicious contradiction.

 

Ricks who fucked their own Mortys, however, were a minority because incest was a prevailing taboo that spanned most dimensions. It was rare to find a Rick willing to break that taboo, let alone seek a relationship with his Morty that was actually consensual.

Then again, that was also part of the charm of Mortys. They were seldom willing to be made into fucktoys, so it was necessary to convince—of perhaps coerce—them to bend to the Rick’s wishes.

No matter the cost, though, the consensus was always the same: It was so worth it. Once a Rick got a taste, nothing else could satiate him. Ricks who had succumbed to their Morty’s spell were never quite the same again. Like an intoxicating new drug, the experience left them addicted and craving for more, a slave to the habit. The stranglehold on them never let up and assured that no replacement could suffice.

 

However, once the deed was done, the Mortys often became more demanding.

“Normal” Ricks, who only used their Mortys for their brainwave-cloaking abilities, didn't have to make any extra efforts, but a Rick who demanded coitus from his Morty was now obligated to compensate him for satisfying his sexual urges.

Ricks in this situation were required to fondle their Mortys from time to time, to feel them up in all the right ways and make them feel treasured and validated. Luckily for them, Mortys weren’t the brightest crayons in the box, or else they’d have realized that their Ricks' affections weren’t entirely genuine.

It was easy for a Rick to make his Morty swoon; with just the right mix of sweet-talk and caresses, he could coax him to spread his thighs for him. Sometimes this was accompanied by grumbling, but that was all for show. Because if there was one thing that all Ricks across the Central Finite Curve were good at, it was convincing a Morty to do something that went against his best interests, so long as it meant pleasing his Rick.

Mortys were inconsistent creatures. They were perpetually in search of approval yet unafraid to put their foot down when they felt it was warranted. They were as susceptible to bouts of destructive fury when pushed to their limits as they were to unequalled compassion. When it came down to it, Mortys were gentle by nature, maybe even to a fault. But, as with everything, there was a range to be found among them: they were neither innocent virgins nor depraved cocksluts. They did their best to be good little Mortys, but they could still be naughty—especially between the sheets, as Ricks who’d had the pleasure would attest to.

 

“Mortys are made for us,” proclaimed these die-hard Ricks. They defended the doctrine that Mortys were a Rick’s complementary partner, and that all they were doing was allowing a Morty to express his loyalty in the highest form. Mortys were meant to serve Ricks with all their mind, spirit, and body.

This theory did not go over well with most Ricks because it implied that there was an interdependence between Ricks and Mortys. Though this may have been true on the part of the Morty, Ricks refused to acknowledge that it could ever apply to them. "Normal" Ricks were ambivalent toward their Mortys, striving to maintain a detached interest while also not being gratuitously abusive. While they acknowledged that rape happened to some Mortys, however, they didn't necessarily step in to stop it. They were just being practical; they knew better than to stick their nose in another Rick's business.

 

But those Ricks who had given in to their urges and embraced a sexual relationship with their Morty abandoned their pragmatic ideals to revel in their carnal desires, denying that they were any worse off for it. The Mortys of these Ricks tended to be more erratic, making them less effective as cloaking devices...as they became more questioning, more intelligent. And the Ricks would inevitably fall for their Morty’s allure. They couldn’t help it.

They lost their advantage as puppet masters of these Mortys, incapable of even being away from them, constantly fussing over them, yearning for their scent like some depraved pervert. It got so bad that they couldn’t traverse the Citadel without drawing negative attention. It hardly mattered after a while, though, because those Ricks stopped visiting the Citadel entirely, they were so busy jumping their Mortys, fucking them to the point that the Morty could no longer sit, let alone walk straight.

The degree to which these Ricks took their obsession baffled the “Normal” Ricks. They wondered how a Morty could ever agree to being treated in this way. But, obviously, none of them had any right to question another Rick’s Morty about it.

 

None except, perhaps, Rick C-137. He asked the question.

 

He’d been distracted about it for a while now. It wasn’t that he desired his own Morty in the same way, but after hearing the salacious rumors about how tight, how hot, how soft, and how skilled a Morty could be in bed, his interest had been piqued. And, as his nature dictated, once he was curious about something, that curiosity became an unstoppable force, never abating until it was answered.

The particular Morty he eventually asked had dark circles beneath his eyes and was pale as a sheet. He was in such a sorry state, Rick found it hard to even look at him. He didn’t consider meddling or trying to help him, though. After all, it was none of his business.

“I-I don’t know,” the Morty had answered. “I-it happened once, a-and—I don’t really know. Y-y-you can get used to a-a-anything, I guess.”

It might have only been Rick’s imagination, but he could’ve sworn he saw a flash of greed in this Morty’s eyes and a shadow of a smile ghost over his lips before his designated Rick returned from the public restroom. He was furious that another Rick had addressed his Morty, but that was no surprise. Ricks who fucked their Mortys were generally more possessive. Not like C-137 could blame them; he himself would’ve hated finding another Rick chatting it up with his Morty.

 

Though he didn’t share this deviant desire for his grandson with his doppelgangers, he wondered if Morty might be a different story. Could he bring Rick down this path of debauchery single-handedly if he so wished? Ricks usually assumed that a Rick who fell for a Morty did so of his own free will. But deep down, C-137 believed otherwise. He dared to entertain the notion that perhaps Ricks weren’t as in control as they liked to think they were..

Mortys were undoubtedly far less intelligent than Ricks. But that didn’t mean they weren’t astute observers, especially when it came to their Ricks.

C-137 wouldn’t be surprised if it was the Mortys that were largely responsible—consciously or not—for the direction that the relationships with their Ricks took. Not that he accused the poor little bastards of intentionally seeking it out. They didn’t, and yet something in their demeanor, their choice of words, and their gestures was attuned to seducing their Ricks for their own use, just as their Ricks used them in turn. It was a rickety power play; one that Mortys could never hope to win. The players involved were oblivious to what was going on, and they all fell into the same trap, setting limits only to break them, forever locked in a tug-of-war of their desires.

 

That’s just what the relationship between a Rick and a Morty was, though. Whatever Ricks may have thought of it, they always walked hand in hand. It wasn’t for nothing.

They needed each other.

When that realization dawned on C-137, he vowed he’d never fall victim to it. No matter what, he’d remain true to himself. He wouldn’t let Morty win. No. He wouldn’t allow anyone to manipulate him...not even his own ego.


End file.
